No One Else is Lawrence!: A Dozen of D.H Lawrence's Best Poems

Overview

Almost seventy years after his death, D.H. Lawrence (1885—1930) remains one of the most complex and controversial figures in English literature. Remembering the days when the English writer was vilified as a writer of "sexy books with four-letter words," twice Governor-General's Award-winning poet Al Purdy feels that Lawrence should be celebrated not only for his prose work, but for his poetry.

"Lawrence's genius [as a poet] has long been obscured by the brilliance and fame of his novels and essays," Purdy writes...

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Overview

Almost seventy years after his death, D.H. Lawrence (1885—1930) remains one of the most complex and controversial figures in English literature. Remembering the days when the English writer was vilified as a writer of "sexy books with four-letter words," twice Governor-General's Award-winning poet Al Purdy feels that Lawrence should be celebrated not only for his prose work, but for his poetry.

"Lawrence's genius [as a poet] has long been obscured by the brilliance and fame of his novels and essays," Purdy writes in his introduction to this literary feast. "But let's ignore both critics and admirers and look at the poems. At his very best, Lawrence's poems are unequaled."

Taking his own advice, Al Purdy sat down with fellow poet Doug Beardsley and over their favourite libations at Victoria's Waddling Dog pub, they chose a dozen of Lawrence's very best poems and discussed just why they thought this work was so outstanding.

The result, No One Else Is Lawrence!, will be of interest to Lawrence fans everywhere - but it also sheds light on the tastes and sensibilities of two important contemporary Canadian poets.

These twelve poems - "Kangaroo," "There Are No Gods," "Snake," "Man and Bat," "Mosquito," "Elephant," "Whales Weep Not!," "Fish," "Invocation to the Moon," "The Man of Tyre," "Bells" and "Tortoise Shout" - have never appeared in such a sympathetic or provocative setting. As an extra treat the authors include two poems of their own dedicated to the great English writer - Beardsley's "Lawrence's Shrine, Taos" and Purdy's "In Etruscan Tombs."

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781550171945
  • Publisher: Harbour Publishing Company, Limited
  • Publication date: 1/1/1998
  • Edition description: ANN
  • Pages: 104
  • Product dimensions: 6.00 (w) x 9.00 (h) x 0.32 (d)

Meet the Author

Doug Beardsley is the author of seven books of poetry, the most recent a volume of selected poems, Wrestling with Angels. He has been shortlisted for the BC Book Prize for poetry and the George Woodcock poetry prize. He collaborated with Al Purdy on No One Else is Lawrence! and The Man Who Outlived Himself.

Save the Al Purdy A-Frame Campaign
The Canadian League of Poets has declared a
National Al Purdy Day!

Al Purdy was born December 30, 1918, in Wooler, Ontario and died at Sidney, BC, April 21, 2000. Raised in Trenton, Ontario, he lived throughout Canada as he developed his reputation as one of Canada's greatest writers. His collections included two winners of the Governor General's Award, Cariboo Horses (1965) and Collected Poems (1986)
and other classics such as Poems for All the Annettes, In Search of Owen Roblin and Piling Blood. Later in life, he travelled widely with his wife Eurithe and settled in Ameliasburg, Ontario and Sidney, BC. In addition to his thirty-three books of poetry, he published a novel, an autobiography and nine collections of essays and correspondence. He was appointed to the Order of Canada in 1983 and the Order of Ontario in 1987. His ashes are buried in Ameliasburg at the end of Purdy Lane.

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Read an Excerpt

The Man of Tyre
by D.H. Lawrence

The man of Tyre went down to the sea pondering, for he was Greek, that God is one and all alone and ever more shall be so.

And a woman who had been washing clothes in the pool of rock where a stream came down to the gravel of the sea and sank in who had spread white washing on the gravel banked above the bay,
who had lain her shift on the shore, on the shingle slope,
who had waded to the pale green sea of evening, out to a shoal,
pouring sea-water over herself now turned, and came slowly back, with her back to the evening sky.

Oh lovely, lovely with the dark hair piled up, as she went deeper, deeper down the channel, then rose shallower, shallower,
with the full thighs slowly lifting of the water wading shorewards and the shoulders pallid with light from the silent sky behind both breasts dim and mysterious, with the glamourous kindness of twilight between them and the dim blotch of black maidenhair like an indicator,
giving a message to the man —

So in the cane-brake he clasped his hands in delight that could only be god- given, and murmured:
Lo! God is one god! But here in the twilight godly and lovely comes Aphrodite out of the sea towards me!

Commentary The Man of Tyre

B. This seems paired with "Invocation to the Moon". They're both invocations to the feminine but here the invocation works brilliantly.

P. "Invocation" . . . is a little verbose and, as I pointed out, exaggerated. "The Man of Tyre" seems right, the phraseology. That seems to be all that needs to be said.

B. This is a glorious celebration of womanhood.

P. And religion. Because it's a religious poem, it makes the feeling itself religious.

B. That's a beautiful way of putting it. The celebration of the woman becomes religious.

P. He brings in religion, femininity, beauty, and sex. The whole works.

B. It's all one for Lawrence. The language, oh, the language in the third stanza is magnificent; in her, in her elemental femininity, giving a message to the man. It's a glorious painting of Frieda, no?

P. I think "Giving a message to the man" is amusing.

B. Well, Al, Frieda was probably the only woman for Lawrence. The language in that third stanza is not so surprising but it all comes together brilliantly.

P. The words themselves, even in the thoughts, the phraseology is not so startling, as you say, but ...

B. Often, in Lawrence, it's the cumulative effect, the incantatory build-up of line upon line.

P. He does something similar in "Bells," which we talk about next.

B. You see this more and more in the longer poems. Ginsberg attempted this.

P. Yes, but he piled lines upon lines to such a degree that they toppled over.

B. The technique can easily break the poem apart. But the poems we've chosen don't topple over.

P. Maybe the Americans worship Whitman so much that when they saw that Ginsberg was influenced by Whitman they liked him for that. And of course it was also what Ginsberg said. Sometimes Americans like to hear bad things about themselves. They're most interested in other people's opinions about them, so long as they can forgive the bad opinions.

B. Lawrence could have gone on and on in the third stanza but he uncharacteristically contains himself in the formal shape of the poem. "The Man of Tyre" is held beautifully. It's held within the poem, in a way that is spoken about in the last stanza.

P. There is some exaggeration but it's exaggeration that you can live with. I almost recall the first time I read this poem years ago and thought "what a lovely poem," and you read it many more times and in a commonplace voice because somehow Lawrence makes it commonplace and wonderful at the same time.

B. Your reading in that commonplace voice is so good for the poem because that's what the language calls for, you get rid of that jarring and rhyme of the "sea . . . me" so close together at the end. Read your way one is not disturbed by the ending.

P. I didn't even notice it. Also it's a little story. It's a story . . .

B. Meaning ...

P. Well, let's go through it. Incidentally, do all Greeks "ponder"? It makes you wonder. Anyway, it's giving him credit for being a philosopher.

B. In Greek mythology they do.

P. And philosophy too.

B. A minor cavil. I wish to hell we could get rid of Lawrence's extreme overuse of the exclamation point! But they don't bother you, eh?

P. I don't even think of them. Why do they bother you?

B. They suggest a weakness of expression, a weakness in the language which the punctuation is attempting to alleviate. if he had the language that he really wanted, the exclamation marks would be unnecessary. Maybe he doesn't have the language he wants, maybe it's not possible for words to convey what Lawrence often feels.

P. I read the poems for the sense of them, I pay no attention, unless it's a line break.

B. I guess I feel the language is good enough, and therefore it doesn't need them. He used them a lot and I don't think they're necessary.

P. No, I don't either. Sometimes Lawrence's whole language is exclamation.

B. Right. You don't need the marks. However, it's a minor cavil.

P. You like the word "cavil."

B. I seem to have just discovered it. It's just that these poems are so great, it's sometimes necessary to make some minor criticism, just to keep sane. And they could be better. But I don't mean to nitpick. "The Man of Tyre" is a great homage to the feminine.

P. Yes, though strongly religious because it makes female-male relations religious.

B. For Lawrence they were.

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Table of Contents

Introductions:
Al Purdy
Doug Beardsley
Kangaroo
Commentary
There Are No Gods
Commentary
Snake
Commentary
Man and Bat
Commentary
The Mosquito
Commentary
Elephant
Commentary
Whales Weep Not!
Commentary
Fish
Commentary
Invocation to the Moon
Commentary
The Man of Tyre
Commentary
Bells
Commentary
Tortoise Shout
Commentary
Two poems on Lawrence:
Lawrence's Shrine, Taos Doug Beardsley
In Etruscan Tombs Al Purdy

INTRODUCTION BY AL PURDY

WHY THESE DOZEN POEMS OF D.H. LAWRENCE, and why these discussions between two friends of like mind about Lawrence?

Lawrence's genius has long been obscured by the brilliance and fame of his novels and essays, especially Lady Chatterly's Lover. "Oh that's the guy who wrote the sexy book with all those four-letter words" is liable to be the first comment one hears. "Wasn't he convicted of pornography?" is the second. The answer is yes to both those questions. And so was James Joyce, so have been a host of other writers whose names live, while those of their judges and accusers fade without even an echo.

Lawrence's critics have accused him of just about every sin in the book; his admirers are equally single-minded in their praise. But let's ignore both critics and admirers and look at the poems. At his very best, Lawrence's poems are unequaled. In the animal poems especially, the reader has joined the writer and leaped into the head of a kangaroo, has forgotten entirely that he/she is reading a few words on a page and becomes part of a trilogy consisting of reader, kangaroo, and above all, Lawrence.

In Italy a she-goat is climbing a low-growing almond tree: "like some horrid hairy God the Father in a William Blake imagination." One is stopped in his/her tracks by that line. How could anyone write it? There's a wild leap of the earthbound mind about it; link a hundred poets together with telepathy, and all of them together couldn't think of it. But there he is: God the Father without a depilatory inside the mind of long-dead William Blake, and yourself fascinated by it all.

Forget the nonsense you've read and heard about Lawrence; misconceptions are like a brain-eating disease. You have to read things for yourself, and not take anyone else's opinion, including ours. You have to voyage with the brain yourself, and these are far places of the imagination:

Nobody stuffs the world in at the eyes
The optic heart must venture

-thus saith Margaret Avison, and she speaks true.

INTRODUCTION BY DOUG BEARDSLEY

FATHER WAS BORN ON THE MIDLAND RAILWAY LINE above a pub in the town of Kimberley, three miles southeast of Lawrence's Eastwood, six miles northwest of Nottingham. I'd like to believe this explains my deep affinity for Lawrence, but there's another reason.

in grade ten I had an English teacher, a Mrs. Lampert. Our textbook had an enticing Mediterranean cover, but the same could not be said of its contents. This was the mid-1950s in cosmopolitan Montreal, but the book was stuffed with imitative Romantic and Neo-Georgian fluff designed to kill any reader's interest in poetry. My friend George Vlahos and I had convinced each other that there were only two true-blue poems here worthy of that name. His favourite was Auden's "Musee des Beaux Arts." Mine was Lawrence's "Snake."

In our teenage arrogance we slouched toward Mrs. Lampert, requesting that we take these two poems in class. When asked why, we responded like a Greek chorus, saying that these were the only two poems in the book. "No," said Mrs. Lampert. "Why not?" we asked, our jaws jutting toward her menacingly, our faces set in twin smirks like masks. "Because I don't understand them," she replied. "Poems aren't about meaning," we exclaimed triumphantly. "But, if you feel this way, we'd be glad to teach them in class." I never understood how she could have refused our generous offer. Or if this incident played any role in both of us soon after dropping out of school.

Eastwood is still uneasy about Lawrence. In 1971, while visiting relatives there, I happened to meet a very old man - probably an ex-miner - whose wife used to sit the wee Lawrence on her knee and take him for walks when he was a small boy. The old man told me: "After Lawrence left, Jessie Chambers moved in up there, ay, just a block away from Lynn Croft. I remember Jessie telling me wife "He was just a sexmaniac, ay", and the old miner's eyes went slightly crazy, as if he could almost see the dismembered bodies of young virgins Lawrence had hacked up.

The book you hold in your hands came about as the result of dozens of lunches over a three-year period. We began by discussing poetry, then poems, then the best poems of our time. We kept an anthology of these "best" poems, though it grew slowly, rather like the interest in a bank account. To say it was difficult to "get in" is an understatement. Stakes were high. We'd read a poet a week. The great poets of our century were represented by two or three poems; in the uppermost echelons Yeats had five or six.

Lawrence had twelve. We were nervous. How could this be? Were we suggesting that Lawrence was twice as good as Yeats? This was not only not possible, it was not permitted. Yet there it was.

And here it is. Such a different book. I'm certain nothing like it has been done.

Our wish is to turn and return the reader to Lawrence's best work, particularly the creatures, reptiles, and animals in Birds, Beasts and Flowers. This is the book to read first. Might I suggest that the commentaries be read the same way poems are read: one or two at a time?

Finally, I'd like to say how much we enjoyed making this book.

Victoria, BC
March 17, 1998

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